


Properly Motivated

by MaraudingManaged



Series: The Not-So-Blind Date Universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, interruptions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22149772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/pseuds/MaraudingManaged
Summary: It's interesting what things you can get up to in the Ministry on Christmas Eve, particularly when properly motivated.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Series: The Not-So-Blind Date Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610788
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71
Collections: Smutty Claus Exchange





	Properly Motivated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naarna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naarna/gifts).



> Written for the Smutty_Claus exchange for 2019, please have my stab at a bit of smut for your enjoyment! Thanks to Frumpologist and NotSoSirius92 for coercing me into this exchange, I love and loathe you both. 
> 
> This story can, arguably, be considered in the same 'universe' as A Not-So-Blind Date, and The Gingerbread Fiasco. There will be another instalment in this random Theomione oneshot series shortly, so keep an eye out!

The library in the Ministry of Magic was, in Hermione’s mind, one of the greatest in the world. Little beat it; the Great Library of Alexandria’s magical counterpart, well-protected against the accidental burning by Caesar, was probably the only one that held a candle to the seemingly endless rows that formed the Ministry Stacks. She loved the smell of the place - the earthy aura of ancient books, the fresh tang of crisp parchment when new research was added, the magic that was in the air: a little like ozone, a little like crackling fire. It was always quiet, too; even when every desk was stacked high with books and dissertations and numerous researchers or employees crowded around them, the Stacks seemed to absorb the animated arguments to a faint hum. No-one knew if it was magic created by Head Librarians long gone, or the power held within the books themselves - but it was a place that was at once full of life and utterly still. 

Still - and today, noticeably empty - because, whether she liked it or not, Hermione was alone on Christmas Eve, traversing the Ministry Stacks with only an idle thought on what she wanted to read. 

She’d planned to take the day off; but when an apologetic, morose Theo had appeared at their flat the previous evening after work (with a bouquet of dark, wine-coloured roses dusted with flakes of gold, dainty Christmas roses, vibrant red camellias and mistletoe - all of her favourites in one great bundle) she knew that her hopes for making a romantic day of it were utterly shot. 

Harry and Ron, when she’d enquired as to their Christmas plans in a bid to entertain herself for the day, had found themselves tied up with a staggering amount of case paperwork to complete between them; their faces utterly miserable behind the mountains of parchment when she’d stopped by each of their homes the evening before. Even Ginny was busy - completing a final day of training before her Boxing Day Quidditch match for the UEQA Champions League; and Luna was off somewhere with Rolf searching for some exotic creature or another in the Amazon basin.

Restless and fidgety, with little else to do with her time, Hermione did what she tended to do best - she went to work. With hopes of catching at least a glimpse of Theo whilst meandering around the Ministry, she’d done herself up in a tighter-than-she-usually-wore pencil skirt (courtesy of one smirking Ginny Potter), a delicately ruffled blouse, modest heels and a splash of makeup with a daring red lip - her mother would have certainly called her tarty, and Ginny would  _ absolutely _ have cheered her on. 

_ Sod it, Mother _ , she thought with a toss of her hair, the wild curls atop her head dancing,  _ it’s Christmas. _

Alas, there had been no sign of Theo. She’d half-expected it, and so instead made her way into the depths of the Ministry, into the Stacks. It was quieter, that day - the hum of voices barely a whisper. On Christmas Eve, most of the Unspeakables had, sensibly, begged the day off and were spending it with their families - along with most of the Ministry. 

Further and further back she strolled, heels clicking with a dull tap on the well-trod floorboards, before she paused at row 290b - the one she had been seeking for the last 20 minutes. Row 290 it might have been, but row 290 wasn’t always where it appeared - when she’d first started in the Department it had been endlessly frustrating, but now it was simply a quirk that Hermione found quietly amusing. The time shelves had a habit of disappearing one moment, and returning three weeks later with a selection of books that neither she nor the Head Librarian had seen before. 

_ Time magic and age… time magic and age… _ Hermione’s fingers trailed over the books, scrolls, and tiny fragments that made up the time collection. Her brow furrowed as she searched for possible texts, hands catching on ancient leather and parchment in a slow progression, until they landed on the spine of a particularly hefty tome that held promise. 

Until a shadow blocked the light from the lamps behind her, and firm, strong hands captured her hips. She froze, eyes wide in the dimly-lit stacks as she tried to identify her assailant. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, panic sweeping her before a hint of cloves meandered through the air, with a hint of spice and petrichor she associated with only one person. 

“Hermione,” he said, quiet - a smooth, silky tenor timbre that melted her tension away, only to fill her with humming electricity. The hands on her hips squeezed lightly, and she bit her lip at the hint of promise. 

“Theo,” she replied, cursing herself at the breathless, giddy tone that had managed to seep into her voice. “What brings you to my little corner of the Ministry? Shouldn’t you be skulking somewhere… in… the Law Enforcement archives... Oh!” She gasped as his mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just beneath her jaw, his teeth scraping lightly until goosebumps danced up her neck.

“Don’t turn around, darling,” Theo spoke, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of her ear, and her fingers gripped the text tighter. His hands swept from their position on her hips up, up, up - skimming her waist, toying with the buttons of the crisp, impeccably ironed blouse. Up his hands climbed until his thumbs, painstaking in their ministrations, brushed over her nipples through the sheer bra she wore.

“God, Theo, we’re in the  _ library _ ,” she whimpered, “We can’t…” 

“There’s no-one here, Hermione. But still, might be best to keep quiet, hmm?” He said in her ear, and then pinched her nipple just hard enough to send a bolt of pleasure-pain straight down to her already dampening centre. Her teeth sunk into her lip as she hissed, trying to do as he asked, and he groaned when she rubbed her backside against his groin in a wordless plea for satiation. 

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you in this fucking skirt all morning,” Theo muttered in her ear as his free hand reached to unzip her skirt slowly, so slowly -  _ too  _ slowly. “The shape of your arse is enough to drive a man to do  _ terrible _ things, did you know that?” 

“Mmm,” she hummed as his hand roamed beneath the waistband. “I didn’t realise you’d seen me… oh,  _ please _ !” She rolled her hips, desperately encouraging him to touch her  _ properly _ , where she needed him to touch her until she saw stars, “... This morning.” 

“Who said anything about actually  _ seeing _ you this morning? Half the Aurors on duty today are talking about the exact proportions of your rear,” Theo chuckled outright as his palm sank lower, squeezing and kneading her arse teasingly. “Had to come see for myself, didn’t I?” 

Hermione could feel Theo’s smirk against her neck as he kissed the same spot over and over, and her knees were positively weak, barely holding her up as his hand cupped her cunt beneath the tightly-fitting pencil skirt she’d donned. Her hand fell from the book she’d only been vaguely clinging on to as nimble digits ran over the satin of the thong she’d chosen, only a gentle pressure; but the repetitive motion had heat swimming up her throat and cheeks and pooling in her core. 

“Oh, bloody  _ hell _ ,” she cursed, barely anything more than a hiss as her head fell back onto the firm chest behind her. He laughed outright then, his talented fingers sliding between her thighs, slipping underneath the scrap of silky material to tease her outer lips, goosebumps rising on her bare arms as he evaded that one spot that would take her over the edge. 

“Do you like that, love?” He asked, and she nodded, unable to speak as he continued to play her, teasing and drawing out a breathless moan from her throat before she even knew it had happened. “What do you want?” 

“I want…” she began, stuttering, her cheeks warm, and he laughed lowly as he used a knee to spread her legs apart a little further - as far as her skirt would allow. His hand began to rub circles around her clit, and she couldn’t stop the quiet cry that escaped her. “That! Please, more of that!” Hermione begged, desperately thrusting her hips against his hand to create more friction and the delicious pleasure she needed. The other hand remained at her breasts, kneading and rolling each nipple in turn through the shirt until they were pebbled and hard, aching from his attention. 

“Oh, you can do better than that,” Theo’s fingers, now freer to move, lazily stroked up and down the length of her slit until they delved into her centre. “Is this what you want?” 

“Yes! Yes… I’m… God, Theo, don’t stop!” She almost wept, bucking her hips in time with his circling fingers in a desperate bid to drive them faster. 

“Hermione? Are you here, dearie? I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I have some forms Kingsley needs you to sign before the Wizengamot reconvenes in the New Year.” 

Theo froze, his fingers stilling in their quest. Hermione’s eyes flew open as she recognised the voice of her secretary - a kindly old witch who would be absolutely horrified to catch her in the act. Like a bucket of water had been dumped over her, Hermione felt the wave of icy fear wash over her - and more than just a stab of disappointment.

“ _ No, _ ” she whimpered, and Theo’s fingers withdrew from her skirt in little more than a heartbeat. She turned her head to watch him, his olive eyes half-lidded as he brought his hand to his mouth, swollen from his kisses along her neck, and licked the fingers that had been so intent on driving her into oblivion. Hermione’s eyelashes fluttered, desire still throbbing in her core despite their interruption.

“Later,” Theo chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before melting into the darkness of the Stacks in the impossible way he did - as if here, in this place, he was made of smoke and shadow. 

Hermione reached up to fan her face, grimacing, only noticing when she did so that he’d left her skirt unzipped - her arse given an unwelcome chill from the cool air on her skin. 

“Cheeky bugger,” she grumbled, twisting to fumble for the little metal zip and pulling it up before anyone could enjoy a flash of her decidedly bare backside. “Coming, Marjorie!” She called as she dashed around the corner, self-consciously smoothing her skirt, blouse and her hair.

“Oh, dearie me, Hermione, you look awfully flushed. You’re not coming down with that bloody cold, are you? It would be such a pity to be poorly at Christmas; you should get yourself some Pepper-Up and an Invigoration Draught, before the dreaded thing takes hold. Half of the Aurors are down with it, you know…” 

The grey-haired witch nattered on as Hermione continued to fan herself. She very much doubted half of the Aurors had come down with her particular brand of fever. 

* * *

“Have you got yourself off yet?” Theo asked lowly in the short queue for the little cafe she’d chosen to provide her caffeine fix - in a bid to escape the Ministry and to thoroughly cool herself down. Since her rather heated rendezvous in the Stacks, she’d found herself entirely unable to focus on any of her work, and more than once had found her fingers itching to relieve the lingering pressure at her centre. 

She’d lasted until four in the afternoon before she’d made her escape, and certainly had  _ not _ got herself off… though she’d been close. Too close. She  _ hated _ that he knew exactly what she’d wanted to do, and she sniffed primly at the accusation. 

“Are you following me?” She demanded, brows rising as she flicked her hair out of her face with a huff. 

“Clearly,” Theo grinned pulling at one of her curls gently and letting it spring back. His olive eyes glittered in the comforting glow of the shop, and he pressed his lips to her lips in a chaste kiss. “But that wasn’t an answer, Hermione.” 

“That’s because we’re in the queue for coffee,  _ Theodore _ ,” she answered, turning up her nose, but she couldn’t quite stop the blush that rose to dust her cheeks. With a groan she brought her hands up to cover her face as he laughed, eyes creasing at the corners. “I hate you,” she mumbled under her breath, and he slipped an arm around her waist, squeezing her close to his side. 

“No you don’t, love. Isn’t this a more… interesting way of spending Christmas Eve at work?” 

“I don’t know how you’re even getting any work done, you sod,” Hermione grumbled.

“It’s been a struggle,” he sighed dramatically, a hand raising to his forehead in a mockery of a swoon, and she laughed outright at that, elbowing him gently in the stomach, eliciting a groan from the man next to her.

“For that,  _ you  _ can buy the coffee,” Hermione told him frankly, and then turned to the waiting barista who took her regular order. “Afternoon, Caro! I’ll have a large gingerbread latte, extra syrup.” 

The barista eyed them both, a grin on her face. “Whipped cream and a biscuit?” 

“Oh, why not. And a large Americano, extra espresso for  _ this _ idiot. Theo, I’ll leave you to pay, shall I?” 

“Wait, no, please don’t…” he pleaded as she left the queue.    
  
“That’ll be eight forty-five, please!” The blue-haired barista said cheerfully, “Cash or card?” 

“Hermione!” He looked thoroughly panicked as he fished for his wallet, and she grinned to herself, waving her fingers. Theo still struggled with Muggle money, and knowing that the barista in question was a witch made it all the more satisfying to watch him flounder and count out coins from her position at the drinks collection area.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, give it here,” the girl huffed, snatching his wallet from his hands, and Hermione covered her mouth to giggle as her poor boyfriend looked in equal parts terrified and relieved as she rifled through the folded leather for the amount she needed. “Purebloods, I  _ swear _ . Here you go, Nott - and that’s your change. I don’t know how Hermione puts up with you, honestly.” 

“I - I don’t -” 

“I’m training at the hospital. I work here on my days off to make a bit of extra cash. Come on, keep up - it’s not difficult. Happy Christmas, Nott! Hello, how can I help you?” She addressed the next customer, shooing him on, and Theo glared good-naturedly at Hermione as he came to stand next to her by the end of the bar. 

“Had fun, did you?” He groused, crossing his arms. 

“Yeah - loads, actually.” Hermione grinned, and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I do love you, you know.” 

“I love you too, witch,” his frame relaxed, and one of his arms slipped around her waist once more as he rested his head atop hers with a huff. “Though you don’t half do my head in, sometimes.” 

* * *

Hermione was bored, and caffeinated. The two never seemed to go well together, and it was only emphasised by the fact that she was still  _ incredibly _ frustrated - which was why she’d found herself in Theo’s office in the DMLE, lounging in his chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she waited for him to return. More than once her fingers had strayed southwards, but she’d stopped herself. 

It would be so,  _ so  _ much better if it was Theo’s hands. Theo’s mouth. Theo’s cock. 

And so she’d shoved her knickers firmly in her cloak pocket, and marched to his office with only one goal in mind. 

“See you in half an hour, gents!” She heard Theo call out, and the lock on his door clicked. Her heart stuttered in her chest and butterflies ravaged her stomach, fingers clenching and releasing the arms of his leather desk chair. He entered without noticing her, throwing his cloak over the coffee table shoved in a corner. She cleared her throat awkwardly and he spun on his heel, eyes widening. “What brings you to my little cupboard, love?” 

Hermione simply leaned back in the chair, unsure how to proceed now that she was actually here. She wasn’t particularly good at any sort of seduction, she knew - she’d practically been shoved at Theo by her friends, and so there’d been very little wooing on either of their parts. 

But her need for him hadn’t abated for one second since he’d started the whole charade in the library, and Hermione could no longer stand it. “I’ve had quite an… uncomfortable day, Theodore Nott. Can you imagine why that might be?” 

Theo’s face remained passive as he drew closer, perching on the corner of his desk, but a telltale pinkness dusted his high cheekbones. “I can’t possibly say what you’re referring to.” 

Hermione hummed, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again to try and generate some friction, to ease some of the tension that had been burning there since their morning in the library. “Mmm, I’m sure.” And then she reached into her pocket, drawing out the silky thong she’d worn, dangling it from her fingers idly. 

Theo’s brows shot up, and he stood, sauntering around his desk. “Tut tut, Hermione: no knickers? Isn’t that… interesting.” He plucked them from her hand and slipped them into his own pocket. “Think I’ll keep these for now,” he murmured, his eyes lazily travelling her figure from head to toe. 

Then he was on his knees before her, and a thrill of desire and hunger thrummed through her, her pulse hammering in her ears. Gazing up at her from between her thighs, hair windswept and eyes dark, he looked something like pure sin. 

“Lift your hips,” he demanded, voice no longer smooth but as raw and as desperate as she felt - and she obeyed without question. He hooked his thumbs under the hem of her skirt and pushed it up, past her knees and over her thighs until it bunched at her waist, leaving her bare before him. 

“Oh Merlin, Theo,” Hermione gasped out loud as he spread her knees apart and he leaned close, so close she could feel his breath, hot and heavy, against her skin. One finger slid through her lips to gather the moisture that had pooled at her core before swirling it around her clit with painstaking slowness, and her mouth fell open in a silent cry. Her arms trembled as she fought to keep herself upright in the chair, to be able to gaze down at his dark hair as ran his fingers over her again and again until she was dizzy with want. 

As if he knew what she needed, his mouth lowered to her centre and she bucked upward unthinkingly when his tongue flicked against her. “Oh,  _ yes _ ,” Hermione gasped, and when he chuckled against her a vibrating hum caused her to jerk again. Theo’s free hand came to rest on her stomach, holding her gently in place, and as his tongue darted out against her - a wonder all of its own as it drove her closer and closer towards the cliff edge she was so desperate to fly over - two fingers eased inside her and she cried aloud. She didn’t care if anyone heard any longer, so long as her burning desperation for Theo was sated. 

Her hips rolled up, one hand flinging forward to grasp his hair as she rose higher and higher towards the crest of her pleasure, driven by his mouth and tongue and fingers. “Don’t stop - don’t you dare stop - oh God, Theo, I’m…” 

And then there was a banging at his office door - hard enough to make the frosted glass rattle in its frame. 

_ No, no, no! _

“Oi, Nott! You coming out or not? We’re gonna miss the Portkey if you don’t get your arse in gear.” 

“Fuck it all to hell,” Theo hissed the curse against her, his head resting on her hip as he heaved in deep breaths, and Hermione couldn’t help but agree with his sentiments as her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow movements. 

Hermione whimpered, squeezing her eyes tight. “I hate them, I swear to Merlin.” 

“You don’t,” Theo sat back on his heels, ran the back of his hand over his mouth, and then leaned up to press a lingering kiss to her parted mouth. The taste of herself on his lips was intoxicating, and she flicked her tongue against his, attempting to draw him back in as her hands reached up to grasp his dark hair. “Though I think I might,” he groaned, and forced himself back. Hermione gazed blearily up at him, still teetering at the edge of oblivion, and he hastily ran a hand over his head to smooth down the wayward locks. “Later, I promise. Fuck,” he grabbed his cloak. “We won’t be long - only an hour or so. Wait for me?” 

“I always will,” she promised, meeting his eyes. They were so dark that they were almost black - the olive green of his irises almost drowned out by his pupils. 

“I’m going to fuck you seven ways from Sunday and I’m locking every door, silencing this room, and we’re not coming out until neither of us can walk straight.” He swore, and Hermione sat up a little straighter at that. 

“Nott, come on, what are you doing? Having a wank? Time and place, mate!” Ron called through the door, and Hermione cringed, shrinking in on herself and drawing her cloak about her exposed body. 

If she’d felt  _ any _ lingering arousal, it had been quickly quashed by the tactless, unknowing words of one of her best friends. Theo snorted indelicately and leaned over to kiss her once more, tilting her chin up so that her mouth slanted across his. 

And again he was gone, and Hermione was left cursing every witch and wizard that had interrupted them - knowing that she must be an entirely dishevelled mess. She ran a hand over her hair, and then went about trying to make herself look entirely un-shagged; just in case anyone happened to stop by. 

* * *

“Night Potter, Weasley! Happy Christmas!” 

Hermione’s head shot up from the book she’d been flicking through on Theo’s desk. She stood, flinging off her cloak, and was at the door just as he crossed the threshold. 

Their eyes collided, hands reached out, and as soon as the door was locked behind them Theo had pinned her against it, sliding her skirt up her thighs and hitching up one leg to rest at his hip as he kissed her thoroughly. “Thank fuck - spent all night hard as a fucking rock, I swear to Merlin -” Theo rambled in between the hurried, desperate meetings of their mouths; his palms roaming everywhere they could reach, undoing each button of her shirt and dragging her bra down so that he could palm her breasts. 

Hermione’s hands found his hair at last, the silky fine strands catching between her fingers and she tugged until he moaned against her mouth, his hips rolling forward desperately, revealing precisely how hard he was. He shrugged off the heavy robe he wore about the Ministry - beneath it the clean white shirt rolled up to the elbow, the tight suit trousers clinging to his thighs and backside almost indecently. 

He hauled her other thigh up until her ankles were wrapped around his waist and he was slotted himself between her thighs, hips grinding forward into her firmly until she gasped into his mouth. Lifting her easily, he turned them around and walked her to his desk, scattering parchment and quills to the ground as he cleared a space. 

He moaned outright as her hands reached down to make short work of the button at his waist, the fly down only a second later. She cupped his cock through the soft cotton boxers, stroking the hard length of him until he twitched beneath her fingers and he released a stifled shout as his hips bucked forward against her palm. Theo’s eyes were closed now, mouth parted, his usually pristine hair in untamed disarray; he was entirely at her mercy, and Hermione grinned as he whimpered when she squeezed gently. 

God, she loved him more than she’d ever thought it possible to love someone else. Even after today, when they’d danced around each other and almost got caught more times than she dared to count, he was still everything she wanted and needed. 

And Merlin, she needed him. 

It took very little work for her to shove his trousers and boxers to his knees, and have him turned around to sit on the desk so that she could straddle him. 

“Fuck, Granger - you are the sexiest woman in the entire world, did you know that?” Theo hissed as she sank onto him, revelling in the slight burn and stretch of her walls around his cock as she slowly, slowly took him in. “You’re so wet - shit, I should have done this in the Library.” He breathed out heavily, and then groaned as she squeezed when he bottomed out. “Should have told Weasley and Potter to fuck off as well - yes, just like that.” 

His fingers dug into her hips, slid over her arse, cupped her cheeks as she started to ride him, moaning when his mouth captured a nipple between his teeth. 

“Hermione, please…” He begged then, an arm reaching to wrap around her waist, the other sliding between them. She cursed as his fingers rolled around her clit as she rose and fell, her arms looping around his neck as he pulled her tight, his hips arching upwards every time she slammed down - driving him ever deeper, ever harder. 

Her head tipped back of its own accord and she saw stars as her orgasm rocketed through her, a cry tearing from her throat as his thrusts continued, his hands helping her to maintain momentum as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. 

“Shit, I’m going to -” Theo began, and then his hips stuttered once, twice - his eyes closing as he released a low, long moan as he came, hard and deep, inside of her. 

Hermione collapsed against him, utterly spent and trembling. Theo’s arms looped around her to keep her upright as he peppered light kisses against her sweat-slicked skin, his chest rapidly rising and falling, and she could feel his heart racing in his chest - matching her own beat for beat. 

“What time is it?” Hermione asked sleepily as she leaned against Theo’s shoulder, and he shrugged slightly as his breathing slowed. “Please?” 

“Fine, let me…” He wiggled his arm so that he could see his wristwatch, squinting in the semi-darkness. “9pm; I’m officially off shift.” 

“You’ve not been on shift all day, you arse,” she chuckled tiredly, nuzzling his neck, and Theo laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to her crown.

“Suppose so. In my defence, I  _ did _ manage to finish all my paperwork, and all the interviews we had to catch up on.” 

“How?” Hermione snorted, leaning back just a little to meet Theo’s glittering olive eyes as his hands swept over her backside once more. 

“I was… properly motivated.” 


End file.
